


Desirable Qualities of Indoor Bonsai

by Vrunka



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, overwatch secret santa 2016, smooches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 01:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8947882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vrunka/pseuds/Vrunka
Summary: "In order to grow bonsai indoors, we must first understand the different plants used for bonsai...It then remains to alter the indoor growing environment to approximate the natural growing environment as closely as possible."Or Hanzo keeps bonsai and McCree is clueless.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the lovely sodawife at tumblr! Merry holidays, bud!!
> 
> The summary quote and the title are from Indoor Bonsai which is part of the Brooklyn Botanic Garden Record.

"Do you still keep them?" Genji asks.

He's wearing his mask. Smooth, unreadable metal. The green glow of the visor.

He's holding a tree between his hands. The start of a bonsai, though Hanzo does not recognize the species. Thorns and deep, green leaves.

Hanzo looks back up at his brother's face, his brother's mask.

Genji tips his head. "You always enjoyed the art of it before."

"You did not."

Genji chuckles. It reverberates slightly within the mask. Echoes. "How could I?" he asks, voice keeping that higher note, residual laughter at the edges of his words. Real, true sounding happiness. "Snipping and tying and watering. Over and over." Genji laughs again. Shakes his shoulders. "But you liked it. Do you still?"

Hanzo has been with Overwatch for a few months now. He's almost ashamed to admit the first thing he had done was set up a small terrarium. Four little trees. They're doing exceptionally so far. It's going pretty okay.

They're doing better than Hanzo, at least. Thriving. Hanzo barely talks to anyone, uncomfortable and cold with these people who seem to know his brother so well. Knew his brother was alive, all this time.

Hanzo takes the plant, frowning. Genji chuckles again. Reaches out to squeeze Hanzo's shoulder. "I thought you'd like it."

"What is it?"

Genji tips his head again, the opposite way. Bounces a finger against his chin. Mocking in the motion, playful. "Texas ebony. I thought it seemed appropriate, no? Considering your..."

"That is not funny."

"If you weren't so obvious about it maybe it wouldn't be," Genji says. "You don't need to be embarrassed, it is kind of cute."

Genji makes no move to take the plant back. Unapologetic. Texas ebony, what a joke. Hanzo turns the pot in his hands. Thorns, rough bark. Not particularly like McCree at all.

There is something in that imagery though.

McCree like a bonsai. In need of some heavy maintenance, trimming, shaping. But most likely worth the effort in the end.

Hanzo hates himself for even thinking it. He's no longer a child. The whole process of having--God he hates the word--a crush is ridiculous. Stifling.

"If you have had fill of your jest, I am going to go," Hanzo says. His fingernails scrape against the terra-cotta of the pot. It'll need to be transferred to a more appropriate container. Something with more room to breathe.

Maybe something red.

McCree looks good in red.

The thought, foreign and sweet and curling, makes Hanzo frown.

"I wasn't making fun," Genji says. Hanzo can imagine the eye roll that goes with the statement. The petulant head motion is there, even with the mask, rolling on his neck in an exaggerated circle. Annoyed.

Hanzo doesn't know how to deal with it. The blank face of the mask. No way to accurately gauge Genji's reactions.

He leaves. Turns stiffly and stalks back in the direction of his room.

Genji doesn't stop him.

The old Genji would have stopped him.

As if he needs another thing to make matters worse, he runs into McCree before he has made it back to the safety of his room.

Fate.

Or something equally mortifying.

"Howdy," McCree says, tipping his hat.

Hanzo nods, says nothing. He wants to return to his room, wants to wallow in peace. But McCree is McCree and that means nothing is ever that easy.

McCree, unflappable, just catches Hanzo's elbow as he tries to hurry past.

"In a rush, darlin'?"

Hanzo swallows. Doesn't shrug his arm out of McCree's grip. McCree's metal hand is on the joint, smooth and cool against Hanzo's heated skin.

His serape is red. It goes well with his skin. The sun-kissed brown of his forearm. Muscles shifting under the skin and hair.

McCree is the one person in this place who has really made an effort. Always has a smile and a greeting for Hanzo. It always makes Hanzo feel just a little bit better, no matter how bad his day has been.

McCree grins, seems to read the warring emotions that must be flickering across Hanzo's face.

"I was just about to grab something to eat, if ya wanted to join me." McCree glances down at the plant, still gripped in Hanzo's hand. "'Less you were off to do something?"

"If I was, you wouldn't be helping," Hanzo says. More biting than he wants. McCree releases his grip, holds his hands up by he head. A give, a concession.

Hanzo wants to apologize.

Instead he turns on his heel and leaves.

\--

He pots the Texas ebony in red.

It looks good against the bark.

He tells himself it's the only reason.

\--

Two weeks later and he's all but forgotten the whole thing.

The Texas ebony fits in his collection perfectly. Adds well-needed balance to the entire aesthetic.

He spritzes the leaves. Droplets of moisture, rolling down the rounded cut of them. Like sweat.

Hanzo thinks of McCree, sweating, grinning. At the training exercise Pharah had insisted on running a few days back. McCree had asked to partner with him, Hanzo had refused.

McCree with sweat in his hair, hanging over his brow.

Hanzo closes his eyes.

Sighs through his nose.

He shoves the Texas ebony back into the terrarium he's built. Enough work on it for one day. Too distracting. Stupid.

Hanzo pulls down the Barbados cherry instead. Gets the small clippers from his kit. Something that requires utmost attention to detail.

The perfect thing to keep his wandering mind off of Jesse McCree. Jesse McCree, sweat-covered and panting.

Hanzo turns the plant, eyeing the fall of the branches. The sprigs of new growth. He begins to cut. Each snip careful and planned. Calculated.

He's been at it for fifteen minutes, when it happens.

"Heya, Hanzo, hope I ain't interrupting but--"

Hanzo doesn't hear the rest.

He jumps, not normally so easily rattled, but shaken out of his concentration. Lost in the solitude of the work. The clippers in his hand--mini-shears, really, sharp little things--gouge against the trunk.

Hanzo curses, under his breath. Turns to glare at McCree. Standing just past the threshold of the door to Hanzo's room. Holding the back of his neck, head bowed slightly. Guilty.

Serves him right.

"What are you doing here?"

"Ahh. Sorry, I just--" McCree swallows around whatever he was saying. Tips his head to look past Hanzo. The terrarium on the desk, little plants and jerry-rigged lights.

He's dressed in workout clothes. Sweatpants--red, they would be--white tee-shirt. Too tight. It clings to McCree's biceps, his pectorals, pulled too tight across the expanse. McCree's nipples, visible little bumps in the fabric. Hanzo looks away sharply.

"Do you not know how to knock?" He asks. Vicious. He is blushing. He hates it.

The plant on the desk is ruined. Slash across the bark, gouged deep into the soft wood. Sap like blood. Hanzo wipes at it with his thumb. Sticky and gold against his skin.

"I did knock," McCree defends, weakly. He hasn't moved. Has not come further into Hanzo's space. "Didn't realize you were...I thought you'd hear the door." McCree is making a face, Hanzo can hear it in his voice.

He glances over his shoulder.

Sure enough, McCree has a baffled little smile across his mouth. "You keep lil trees?"

"Did you come into my room without invitation to question me about my hobbies?"

McCree shakes his head. Dog-like. "Nah," he says, easy. Relaxing some. Face falling into his more natural grin, all teeth. "Came to see if you were up for a spar. Reinhardt's the only other person free and he, uhh. Well I ain't lookin' for that strenuous a workout, you know. This is more interestin' though. Can I see 'em?"

Hanzo sighs.

"If you would like."

McCree steps even with him, crosses the room in a few easy strides. He radiates heat, standing at the desk next to Hanzo. Almost close enough to touch.

"Tell me about it."

Hanzo doesn't know where to start. He points to the first tree in the line. "Silky oak, English ivy, tree of a thousand stars. Hardy breeds. Easily kept and maintained." He touches the snow rose; finger against the wire wrapped around its delicate branches.

"Kinky," McCree says. His arm brushes Hanzo's waist.

Hanzo snorts, stifles his chuckle with the back of his hand.

He can feel McCree smiling next to him. "I gotcha to laugh, now that's a victory."

Hanzo shakes his head. "It's to help it grow. Form it." Hanzo looks down at the cherry again.

"Aww shit," McCree says. Noticing the damage, the sap on Hanzo's fingers. "That my fault?"

"It is not a big deal."

McCree runs his own finger along the gash. The sap slick against his skin, glistening faintly in the harsh, artificial light from the terrarium. Hanzo tightens his hands into fists, digs his nails into his palms.

"Sorry," McCree says.

Hanzo shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. The tree will heal. It is what plants do."

"Still though..." McCree glances over them. Reaches out to turn the Texas ebony. The red glazed ceramic looks good against him. A ridiculous thing to think. "I've seen this one."

"Genji gave it to me the other day."

McCree tips his head. "Right," he says, nodding like he remembers the encounter in the hall. Like it had meant anything to him. "These little trees are pretty cute, you know that?"

Cute.

"It is considered an art form in Japan."

McCree bumps their elbows together. Something intimate in the motion. "Art can be cute. It's real neat that you keep 'em. It's. Uh." McCree rubs the back of his neck. Blushing a little bit. "That is...you're uh."

Hanzo bites his lip.

Grabs a handful of McCree's tee-shirt. Fingers against McCree's sternum, blunt pressure. He waits a beat; watches McCree's eyes go wide, pupils dilating and expanding. Rapid, shifting changes.

Hanzo drags McCree forward. Pushes up on his toes to slot their mouths together. Unhurried and chaste.

Not exactly what Hanzo is looking for.

He opens his mouth, breathes against McCree's lips. McCree opens to him. Humming as he does so, pleasured little sound from his chest, rumbling under Hanzo's fingers.

Hanzo brings his other hand up, presses it against McCree's crotch. Rough. Needy. Hanzo has wanted this for too long to worry overmuch about finesse.

"Woah there," McCree says against his lips. Shifting his hips back. Metal hand on Hanzo's wrist. Panting just slightly. Lips pink and shiny with Hanzo's spit. He clears his throat. Hanzo watches it move, Adam's apple bobbing.

"What is the wait?"

"Well...I just. It ain't like I'm not flattered, Hanzo. Really. But I..." McCree looks away. His flesh hand touches Hanzo's jaw. Sap against his cheek. "I didn't even think you liked me. So this is all sorta fast..."

"You did not think I liked you?"

McCree makes a face. Eyebrows raising, creasing in the center. "Not really." He swallows. "You're kinda...cold. Like...all the time so--"

"Leave."

"No! Come on. I didn't mean it like--"

"I do not care what you meant. I was busy." Hanzo glares up at him. Cranes his head out of McCree's grip. "I am busy. And you are being a bother. Leave."

"Hanzo..."

Hanzo turns back to the bonsai. Clenches his hands on the desk. McCree isn't leaving.

McCree is still standing there.

Like an idiot.

Hand hovering over Hanzo's shoulder.

"You touch me and I will break your wrist, Jesse McCree. Leave. I will not ask nicely again."

He would do it, too. Even though it isn't fair to McCree. Even though McCree has done nothing wrong beyond trying to be understanding.

Hanzo is cold.

Being told it so simply shouldn't hurt like it does. Maybe it's just because he had hoped McCree, of all people, had had a better opinion of him.

"I didn't mean to make you mad, Hanzo." McCree's hand has returned to his side. Fingers gripping the material of his sweats.

Hanzo's gaze lingers on his thighs.

Sweeps back to the desk. The little trees as McCree had called them. Lined up in a row.

"Will you look at me, sugar?"

Hanzo doesn't want to. Does any way. Lip between his teeth. McCree touches his cheek again. With the metal hand this time.

Hanzo does not break it.

McCree sweeps his fingers under Hanzo's eye. "So you don't hate me?"

Hanzo closes his eyes. "I do not hate you."

"You like me a little bit?"

"I suppose. Just a little." Hanzo looks over at the Texas ebony. Frowns.

"Well I like you a whole lot more'n just some quick lay, okay?" McCree says. "And if I gotta woo you to prove it I will."

"I do not expect you to woo me." Hanzo sighs. Touches McCree's wrist. The mechanical joints under his fingers. Smooth motion. "You should go. I...have a lot to. Do. The tree needs to be..."

"Right. Lemme getcha dinner at least, to make up for it."

Hanzo smiles, just a little. "Part of wooing me?"

McCree grins back, leans forward to press a kiss against Hanzo's temple. "If ya want."

It's a scary notion. Opening himself up like that. Hanzo waves McCree off. Shooing him. "Dinner," he says. "Your treat. Do not bother to knock. I will leave it unlocked for you."

Anyone could just come wandering in. But no else, besides maybe Genji, would.

"See you in a couple hours then," McCree says. Leaning on the door frame. Insufferable. He presses another kiss to Hanzo's face as Hanzo shoves him out of the room. Grinning still.

Hanzo touches his cheek as he closes the door. Smiling too. Sappy idiot.

\--

Things don't really change.

They eat dinner together more often.

McCree will mope around Hanzo's room when there is nothing else for him to do. He hums a lot. Off-key tunes and ditties that Hanzo does not recognize.

It would be annoying, if Hanzo weren't so smitten.

Hanzo tends his bonsai.

The cherry heals, as Hanzo had predicted. Still scarred, scratched across the surface of the bark, white against the dark brown of the wood.

But it heals.

Hanzo is trimming it when McCree comes back from the latest mission. He's dusty, looks exhausted. Smells.

Probably skipped showering to come straight to Hanzo. Not the first time he's done that.

He's smiling though. Dopey pull of his lips. His beard is a mess. In desperate need of a trim. His mechanical hand is behind his back.

"Brought you something," he says. Leaning forward to give Hanzo a kiss on the cheek.

Something so domestic and vanilla. Cheek kisses, presents. It's been a whole month and they haven't progressed much beyond that. McCree insists that taking it slow is the wise course of action.

Who is Hanzo to argue?

"You did not have to do that."

"I don't mind. Thought you'd like it." He pulls his hand out from behind his back with a flourish.

There in his palm. A squat little cactus. In a pot that is about the same size as Hanzo's bonsai trays.

Hanzo blinks.

"You have brought me a cactus?"

"It's...I mean I thought you might. Since it's my fault your one mini tree got ruined. So..."

"So you bring me another plant to ruin?"

"No. It's just reminded me of you? I guess. I dunno. It's a lot like you."

"Prickly and unlikeable?"

"Now that's jus' plain rude, plenty of people like cacti, Hanzo. And I...I wouldn't ever. They're tough, resilient little things and people think they're self-sufficient, or that they don't need attention. But...they do. And you do. Not a whole lot, maybe. But a little." And McCree is genuine enough, Hanzo finds himself moved. From anyone else, such an obvious line would be just that, a joke. But McCree is blushing and earnest, still holding his cactus like an olive branch. Extended between the two of them.

"Very well," Hanzo relents, plucking the plant out of McCree's palm by the pot. "I accept your plant. And your apology." He turns it, places it on the desk next to his assorted bonsai trees. Oddly enough, it seems to fit, blends in with the other well-trimmed plants better than Hanzo would have guessed. Behind him, McCree is fidgeting.

"Are you going to help?" Hanzo asks, over his shoulder.

"What?"

"I've been meaning to repot," Hanzo makes a sweeping gesture, "if you wanted to...assist."

"You'd trust me with your little trees?"

Hanzo smiles, he can't help it. Faced with such honesty, it's hard to keep up the cold shell he has cultivated after so many years.

"With supervision." He allows, still smiling. McCree catches the tone, smiles back, standing even with Hanzo now. Hip to hip. The little cactus and the bonsai. A fitting image for the two of them, Hanzo thinks, elbow brushing McCree's as he reaches for the first plant.

McCree who just needs some tending, some shaping. And Hanzo, who just needs a little care.

And if McCree leans down between repotting the Texas ebony and the English ivy to trail a kiss across Hanzo's lips, well, Hanzo isn't complaining.

Not in the least.

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff was requested. I don't usually...write fluff...at all. So this was an adventure. Hope you enjoyed!!
> 
> Fun fact: these are all real plants. Someone left the quoted book about bonsai keeping at my pool so it felt like fate...
> 
> Comments, critiques etcetera etcetera hit me up, kids.


End file.
